


Just Lick the Street

by Dammit_Hawke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4378166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammit_Hawke/pseuds/Dammit_Hawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke tries to describe the peculiar flavor of the streets of Kirkwall. Isabela decides to help her settle on exactly what that flavor is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Lick the Street

**Author's Note:**

> You know how sometimes you wake up and you're not actually awake yet but your table and keyboard are /right there/ and you've wasted the morning playing heros of dragon age to the point where things are just rattling in your head and need to be written down? You can't even read other things cause you have something that needs to get unstuck from your fingers even if its just a glob of goop?
> 
> This is my sunday morning glob of goop drabble. Beta'd by my amazing girlfriend, Sarah. 
> 
> Who knows, maybe I'll continue it. Wouldn't be surprised.

Hawke always liked to insist that the streets of Kirkwall had a certain _flavor_.

 

"Does piss and sick really count as as a flavor?" Isabela would laugh, smirking as they rounded a corner in Hightown. They weren't far from the estate, but where was the fun if they couldn't take their time walking back? "Seems like more of a stench. Lingering, crawling under your skin, putting down roots in your nostrils."

 

"Maker, no." Hawke gave her shoulder a little shove. "Not a smelly flavor. Not a taste either, before you even dare pull that one out. I'm talking about... Not a flavor you smell or taste- one you feel. Andraste's tits, Varric would kill me for talking like this."

 

"You do enjoy talking, though." The pirate caught her wrist, pulling her into the shadows of the streets. "Rambling, really. Can't even get you drunk before your mouth is off running."

 

She'd stepped closer, so close. Her hands ran up Hawke's arms and down her back, tracing her spine until meeting where her staff intersected it. Marian could only shiver and press against her, her arms finding their way around Isabela's waist.

 

"If you're not careful, someone might mistake your teasing for other intentions," she warned quietly. She could feel Isabela's breath against her neck, the light touch of her lips.

 

"That would be a shame," Isabela murmured. "Could'a sworn my intentions were very clear. Was there a doubt I left in your head, last time?" She pressed her lips to Hawke's jaw, bringing a sigh to the mage's lips.  
  
"Hardly," she said breathlessly, hands finding fistfuls of Isabela's tunic. She turned her head, claiming Isabela's lips greedily. The stone of the wall behind her scraped her elbows and the back of her head, mussing her short hair, but oh was it worth it to taste the salt and brandy of Isabela's lips. She was so strong and solid against Marian, there was no doubt she could battle the sea and its storms and win. Queen of the Eastern Sea, indeed.

 

She had to tangle her fingers in Isabela's hair and give a tug to break the kiss, panting when she finally got the chance.

 

"Much as I'd love to see Aveline's face if she had to arrest us for indecent exposure," she grinned, "Any chance you'd like to take this to my place."

 

She nodded toward the mansion, not far away.

 

"Sweet thing, we can take this anywhere you want. Especially if it means breaking into your wine stash after."

 

"Well that's just a given, isn't it?"

 

Isabela's laugh sang out in the street as she kisses Hawke again, tugging them blindly toward the estate. The were stumbling in a fit of giggles by the time they actually reached the door, shushing each other like it was some secret; a dire mission to get upstairs unnoticed.

 

At that moment, there was no doubt in Hawke's mind that the city's flavor had the floral scents of laughter and conspiratorial undertones. Maker, did she wish she could breathe it in for the rest of her days.

 


End file.
